Ultimate Batman 7 to 9: Seeds of War
by steave
Summary: This is it! The hit retelling of Batman continues as we get introduced to Zsasz, see Maroni locked up, and a new evil emerge! All this and more as we roll into Gang War!
1. Issue 7

"Seeds of War"

Part 1 of 3

by Steave

Bruce tried to keep himself awake as Mr. Williams continued with his speech. He had been gone for seven years, and in instances like this, he wished he could've extended it an extra seven years.

It was a Wayne Enterprises board meeting, the first that Bruce had ever actually attended, and he was on the verge of sleep. He had been chewing on his pencil, tussling his blonde hair, and doing all kinds of mannerisms one does when they are about to collapse due to boredom and tiredness.

He had listened intently at the beginning of the meeting, especially at the mention that the head of the Applied Sciences Department had recently resigned and that the company needed someone to run it. Bruce would've volunteered, until he remembered that he owned the company. A young African-American man by the name of Lucius Fox said that he would gladly take over the department.

After that decision, Bruce found it hard to keep himself awake, exhaustion from his previous escapades with the Red Hood were finally catching up with him. He felt that he would be able to sleep soundly however, what with Falcone's daughter returned to him and Maroni behind bars.

Then, the unthinkable happened. A young man in a dark blue three-piece suit walked in. He was young, blonde, and Bruce had seen him before. It was Roman Falcone, the son of Gotham's biggest crime lord.

"Bruce? Is that you?"

Roman walked around the elongated table to the head where Bruce had been residing.

"Aahh, Roman! It is a pleasure to see you."

Bruce extended his hand of friendship, but Roman walked on past it and gave Bruce an enormous embrace. Bruce was taken aback by Roman's affection. It's true that they had been friends, but Bruce had never felt this close to Roman.

"How long has it been Bruce . . ?"

"It's been seven years Roman."

"It's been a long seven years Bruce."

One of the board members let out an interrupting cough.

"Oh, uhm, sorry Roman. But . . . we are in the middle of the meeting."

"Yes, I know Bruce, that's why I've come here."

Bruce raised an eyebrow and gave Roman a peculiar look.

"I've come to discuss my father's business with you. Falcone Imports only does business with the best, and we do indeed make billions of dollars every year. We would like your Enterprise to help us."

Bruce immediately felt uneasy, "And how would we do that Roman?"

"Ah Bruce, we know your company owns many of Gotham's National Banks. We would like to launder our money through those banks."

"Our banks?"

"Yes, if that is alright with you of course Bruce."

Bruce stood, unsure of his answer . . . Falcone wanted to launder his dirty money through Bruce. It would poison the very core of Wayne Enterprises. He couldn't let this happen.

--

Sal sat in his cell, stewing over what had happened in the past few days.

This was goddamn rediculous. An ex-employee of his down at AXIS Chemicals, decided to put on a red cape and hood and go terrorizing his banks. This, made it look like his competitor for Head Crimelord of Gotham City, Carmine Falcone, had been responsible. Then, Joe kidnaps Selina Falcone, making it seem that Maroni had done it.

Then, he gets a visit from the Batman, and as he's spilling his guts to the damn . . . thing, it has a recorder on it, and he turns the tape over to the police. Finally, after being set up by everyone imaginable, he got arrested by that no good Jim Gordon.

He had been set up, and who had to pay for it? Sal.

That rotten District Attorney Harvey Dent didn't waste any time in getting Sal in there either. He had been looking for any excuse to put Sal in the slammer since he first got that dumb District Attorney gig. Sal had vowed that one day, he would get even with Dent. And he couldn't wait for that day.

And for once, Sal didn't know how to get out of this one. They had sentenced him to death for murder, and about every other charge imaginable. He would have to wait it out, and hope some miracle would occur. The lights started to flicker, and finally went out momentarily. They came back on soon, however.

Then they went out again, but this time, they stayed out. The inmates started hootin' and hollerin', making as much racket as possible about how the lights were out.

"'Ey, shut your traps willya? They'll come on in a second."

Maroni's shout made the other inmates' voices stop and for a split second, there was a dead silence. But then, something unexpected happened. Someone laughed. But we're not talking about a giggle or even a laugh you give at some movie theatre. No, this . . . was the laugh of a crazy man. One that made your blood run cold, and sent a shiver down your spine.

The laugh didn't stop . . . until the lights came on. Sal had to get outta here.

--

"I don't think Bruce is gonna go for it pop."

Roman, Carmine, and Selina were sitting at the dining table, eating an exquisite home-made Italian meal. Carmine's food delighted everyone, including himself.

"He has to Roman. An offer like that . . . who can refuse it?"

"Listen, dad, everyone knows that it's dirty money."

"Which is exactly why we need Wayne Enterprises. Look, if we launder our money through them, our money will become clean again. And if the police decide to trace it, it'll land at Wayne Enterprises. They'll be dead fish in the water, not us. And who's gonna wanna bring down Wayne Enterprises? Especially with them doing business with the other half of Gotham that we don't do business with. If the police brought them down . . . Gotham would go into a depression. No one wants that."

"I still don't think he'll go for it."

"Look, we got it all under control, if he don't go for it . . . we'll make him go for it."

"But dad," Selina said, entering the conversation, "Bruce is a good friend of mine, at least he was. If you can't get through to him with Roman . . . send me. I don't want you to hurt him. He's been through enough as it is."

Roman and Carmine sat silent for a few seconds, then Carmine started again.

"Alright sweetie, but if you're 'negotions' don't work . . . you know what we'll do."

"Yes pa."

The Falcone's sat in silence for the remainder of the meal.

--

"I don't care how much money Falcone Imports is pulling in. We will NOT do business with them."

Bruce could feel his face burning. He had slept well, and didn't even go out on patrol. Alfred still was suggesting that he let his wounds heal and rest before he went out again. Crime never sleeps, but he felt that at least for now, it did.

He came to the conference regarding the Falcone Imports deal, to find that a young man named Richard Dillier had seemed to convince everyone on the board that this was a great idea. Bruce, was outraged.

"Listen Bruce, we all know the Falcone's family history, but lets face it. This could be the breakthrough deal we've been waiting for."

"Richard, we have enough money to last us four centuries, probably more. I will not let Wayne Enterprises become corrupt with the stench of Falcone's money."

"Bruce, we've already voted, we'll sign the papers tomorrow."

Bruce was shocked, and he stormed out of the room. He couldn't let this happen.

--

It was a cold September night, and Richard was barely managing. He had decided to walk, he needed the exercise. He didn't, however, check a nearby thermometer to see just how cold it was outside.

Just when he thought matters couldn't get any worse, he heard a voice in a nearby alley.

"You!"

Richard froze, the voice was seemed venomous, like a snake's.

"Come here!"

Richard did all he could, and followed the voice into the alley. He was surrounded in darkness, and he couldn't even tell what was up and what was down.

"You work for Wayne Enterprises?"

"Y-y-yes-s-s."

"You must have a lot of money then huh."

Richard didn't answer this last remark.

"You know, I have gifts for people like you."

"Wha --"

Richard didn't get a chance to finish. A knife had been stabbed underneath his jaw, through his mouth, and into his brain. Everything went white, and his life was over.

The man took off his black sweater he had been wearing, revealing his scarred chest and abdomen. The scars were all arranged in tally marks. Taking the knife from Richard's jaw, he added another tally to his collection and placed another one on Richard's head.

After the ritual, he threw Richard's body back into the street and ran for it. A woman screamed. The sirens followed.


	2. Issue 8

"Seeds of War"

Part 2 of 3

by Steave

It was a goddamn bloody mess.

Richard Dollier, one of Gotham's wealthiest, was lying in a puddle of his own blood in the middle of Central Ave. Detectives Gordon and Grayson were just standing there, watching the EMTs place their white sheet over his lifeless body. Gordon had come to realise that the white sheet was the official sign for "this woman/man has been erased from this world."

"Damn."

This was the only word that Dick could conjure up that made any sense. The fact was that there had been two murders in the past two nights like this one. Someone had been stabbed, a very wealthy someone, and then a single cut was placed on their forehead. What this symbolized, the GCPD wasn't sure. Some thought it was a member of a cult. Others thought it was a disgruntled former employee, getting back at his employers. But there was no concrete evidence, yet.

"This is the third time in the three nights Jim."

"I know Dick."

"Who could've done this?"

"That . . . I don't know kid. Listen, why don't you go home and get some rest. I can handle it from here."

"Alright, but if anything happens, give me a call, alright?"

"Will do."

Dick got back into the force's new Dodge Charger, and drove back towards home. Jim was anxious to get this nutjob, whoever he was, behind bars. Hell, he wouldn't mind shoving knife through this guy's jaw. But then he remembered Barbara, his lovely wife, waiting at home for him. He couldn't be out too late.

There was an alley nearby, which more than piqued Gordon's curiosity. Pulling out his .9mm, he wandered to the vacant alleyway, full of interest. He couldn't however get that feeling that this was a trap. Paranoia, he told himself. He then began dreaming of Barbara baking those damn good chocolate chip cookies that were waiting for him at him, and the paranoia left him.

The sight made him pause, and stoop to the ground. There were footprints made on the cold, hard concrete. Whoever had made them had recently stepped in water, making this all too easy.

"Hey, Gibbs!"

A rather plump white man stumbled from the street into the alley.

"Yes Gordon?"

"We've got our evidence. Get your men on these at once and I want to know whose prints those are tomorrow morning. There better be a file when I get here tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

"Now, I'm gonna go home and sleep with my wife."

--

He had left the footprints for the GCPD. He couldn't help but think that, no matter how ineffective they really were, they could be of some helping in solving this crime. Richard Dollier, age twenty-eight, single, member of the Board of Wayne Enterprises. He had seen him only a few moments earlier. Now he had been murdered . . . in cold blood.

He had to confess, he was about to get to Richard first. Granted, there would've been no physical harm done to the man, he would've just scared him into rethink his decision on choosing to do business with Falcone Imports. Now, Bruce would have to make a re-vote to attempt to change the Boad's minds. He would never allow dirty money into the industry that his family built.

But, none of that mattered right now. Richard, a fellow member of the Board, has been murdered. He is the third on a list of rather elite members of Gotham's society that had been murdered in the past three days. All of whom had been killed by a knife, and left with a single vertical slash on their forehead.

An assassin, obviously, there could be no other explanation. But, was he being paid? And if so, by whom? Who would want to kill Gotham's wealthiest . . .

He looked to the sky, as if asking the heavens for an answer, then . . . everything clicked. The past two victims, Harold Hughes and Veronica Hill had been employed at Wayne Enterprises. Batman clenched his kevlar covered fists and was sickened by the thought of who could be doing this. Only one man would do this, trying to get under Bruce's skin and scare him into doing business with the Falcones.

Carmine.

--

The doors were open. She never let the doors open.

Selina awoke from her father's bed. He had left Gotham on "business" or so he said. In any event, the double glass doors that led to the balcony were open. She strode to the doors, and with a pause, continued onto the balcony. The city, it was so dark, so corrupt, nothing like Metropolis.

It felt great out here, and the weather helped ease her mind of the events that had taken place recently. She had never been kidnapped before, it was, kind of exciting. The battle at AXIS Chemicals, Detective Grayson rescuing her, but most importantly, she saw the Batman.

His body, his outfit . . . the more she thought about it, she wished that he could've kidnapped her.

"Selina?"

The voice came from behind her and startled her nearly to fall over the edge of the balcony. It was a low growl, but sounded as if the creature that had spoken the word was in pain from even saying it. As if, glass was scraping itself along the innards of the creature's throat.

She whirled around out of startlement and surprise, and found him there. Draped in the black darkness of his cloak, his shape faded away, revealing only the width of his shoulders and his demon-like cowl. She searched for eyes . . . but found none.

"Yes?"

"Where is your father?"

"He . . . left. He had some business."

The Batman turned on his heels and went to the side of the balcony. Leaping onto its edge, he peered over the side. There was no way this crazy bastard was going to jump.

"Wait!"

Batman turned back to her, revealing some kind of opaque colored lenses that served as eyes.

"What?"

"Um . . . listen. I never thanked you for what happened at AXIS Chemicals."

He still crouched, his lenses staring intently in her direction.

"Uh . . . so . . . thank you."

He turned back to the city.

"Tell your father that the moment he sets foot back in my city, I'll be watching him."

With that, he flew off of the side of the balcony and Selina watched him, until his cape blended in with the city itself.

--

"What the hell do you want Dent?"

Harvey had decided to make a surprise visit to "The Boss" Sal Maroni. The man he had imprisoned only a few days earlier. And damn, he felt great. This guy had done everything, drugs, rape, murder, extortion, and it felt damn good that he had locked this sucker up in the slammer.

"Oh, just seeing how my prize catch was holding up."

"You have the damn nerve you sack of crap. First you slam me in here for being a part of some kind of scheme to get me in here in the first place, and then you have the nerve to come spit in my face."

"You know what Sal, somebody has to. You know how many people you've made suffer? How many lives you've taken away? How many goddamn children you've killed?!?!"

Harvey could feel his vein popping in his forehead, he was getting worked up, but hell, Sal had it coming.

"You better calm down Dent, before you do something you're gonna regret. Oh wait, you already did that, when you put me in here."

"No, putting you in here was the greatest thing to ever happen in my life. All that's left is to put Carmine in there with you. Then, I dunno, maybe you two can get married and have kids or something."

"Damn you Dent! I wanna know why the hell I'm in here when no one else is."

"You're in here because you killed a poor man's wife and unborn child. If anything Sal, you should be thanking me."

"For what?"

"That I got to you before Joe did."

Harvey began walking away, and Sal knew that he had just been defeated, again. So, Sal did the only thing he knew how to do, began screaming.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH HARV!!! YOU WAIT UNTIL I GET OUT OF HERE!!! YOU'RE GONNA GET DENT, YOU'RE SO GONNA GET IT!!!"

As Harvey reached the stairs, the lights went out. Then, something happened that Harvey will never be able to explain. Somone laughed. But not a regular laugh, it was a laugh that made you pause, made you freeze with fear. Harvey had to get out of here.


	3. Issue 9

"Seeds of War"

Part 3 of 3

by Steave

"May I inquire as to why you haven't had any rest, master Bruce?"

Alfred was distraught, maybe even as much as Bruce, when the Waynes were gunned down in Crime Alley. But, he had to be strong for they young Bruce Wayne, and help him in any way possible. Seven years ago, Bruce vanished from the world, gone to find something. When he returned only weeks earlier, Alfred was ecstatic. But, something was very different about Bruce. The way he presented himself, the way he walked, it was not the little boy he had known. It was something else. Darker.

"Selina says that Falcone left town."

"And, I presume that you do not believe the young woman?"

Bruce turned his head towards Alfred. "No, I don't."

"I suppose you believe that he has had a hand in these assassinations?"

"I don't suppose Alfred. I know."

Why Master Bruce had to keep himself down here, in this . . . dungeon was beyond Alfred. He supposed it gave him the solitude and sanctity a parentless-child needed. But, it only reflected the darkness and loneliness that dwelled inside Master Bruce. Alfred was willing to go along with Bruce's plans of "saving Gotham," even if it meant killing him as well.

The telephone could be heard in the background, and without saying a word, Alfred left to answer it. Bruce had been staying in the cave a lot more than Alfred would've liked him to. It seemed that every millenia or so Bruce would decide to go out into Gotham. He always seemed to be "at work," and Alfred couldn't necessarily agree with Bruce's being down there, but if that is what he wants, than he could have it.

He lifted to phone off of the receiver, "The Wayne residence."

"Hello . . . Al?"

"Ah, Mr. Roman! It is certainly a delight to hear your voice again. How are you doing?"

"Just fine Al. Is Bruce around?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not sir. He appears to be sleeping or . . . otherwise occupied at the moment."

"Well, could you wake him up for me?"

"Out of the question sir. I think you and I both know how Master Bruce loves his beauty sleep."

"Very well then. Just . . ."

"What is it Roman?"

"It is really urgent Al."

"Well, I suppose I could give him a nudge or two."

"Thanks Al. Tell him to meet me at Wayne Enterprises in the Board Room."

"I will relay the message immediately sir."

"Thanks Al."

Alfred placed the phone back on the receiver and descended once again into the cave.

"Who was it?"

"That was Roman Falcone sir, he wishes to speak with you at Wayne Enterprises."

"Now?"

"I believe so sir."

"That's just what this 'billionaire murderer' wants. Roman could be in on this too."

"Sir, have I ever told you about your trust issues?"

"More than once Alfred."

"Then may I suggest something. Let the police take care of this."

"They're too slow Alfred. If this killer is going to be there tonight, no one will be able to stop him. And I can't do anything too revealing."

"Understandable. But, how about I'll take care of it."

". . . You're going to the GCPD and tell them that you're afraid that I might be killed tonight."

"Precisely sir. You're quite smarter than those boys at Harvard gave you credit for."

Bruce lifted himself from his leather chair and proceeded to the entrance of the cave. "Come on Alfred, we have work to do."

--

"You're not to harm my son, understood?"

Carmine felt like he was staring right into the eyes of a wild animal. They were blood red, and seemed as if blood would begin rushing straight out of his eyes any second. After a long while, the man nodded.

"Good, now I'll give you the cash as soon as you return with Wayne's head."

". . . what if your ssson interferes?"

"What did I tell you Zsasz?"

". . . he isss not to be harmed."

"Gooood. Now then, if you'll excuse me, I must return to my home or else Gotham will start getting suspicious."

"Yesss."

Victor Zsasz watched his employer leave their dank and dark chamber. The subway was always soothing to him, thats why he decided to build a little home a ways down from the station. Granted, it had been previously occupied by some homeless, and the janitor. But not now. Their bodies propped up in the corner of the room gave him company.

"Tonight," he told them. "we finish thisss."

--

"I just don't understand Bruce . . ."

They both stood there, in the dark Board Room. They were almost mirror images of each other. Both had word the same suit, same shoes, everything. The only difference between them was Bruce was bigger than Roman. Both had had troubled backgrounds. Both had been turned into something else because of them.

"What don't you understand Roman?"

"Why won't you do business with Falcone Imports?"

"Roman, is this why you called me here? After some of our members on the Board die, are mecilessly killed, you call me here not to grieve with me for their loss but to ask me why I won't do business with your family? You have some nerve Roman."

Bruce's face began to burn with anger, it almost seemed like Roman didn't give a rat's ass about the employees.

"And you have some nerve talking to me like that Bruce. After everything our family has done for yours . . ."

"Whoa, wait right there Roman. You haven't done anything for us. It was us that did things for you. If it wasn't for my father, you wouldn't be here right now and neither would your sister, or your father."

He remembered that rainy day only months before his parents were murdered. Carmine's father brought him into the Wayne's own house to have Thomas save him. He had been shot, and they couldn't take him to a hospital. If they did, they might as well have put themselves in an electric chair. Thomas reluctantly saved Carmine's life, and the Falcones have been in the Wayne's debt ever since.

"Bruce . . ."

"You want to know the truth Roman?! The real reason why I won't do business with your family? I don't do business with crimelords, and I will not allow you to corrupt our business with your money."

Bruce's veins were popping in his neck, he could feel his heart begin to race. The nerve of Roman . . . the nerve.

"Bruce . . ."

Roman was fast, but Bruce never remembered him being this fast. Quicker than most of the henchman Bruce had taken down in the last few weeks, Roman pulled a Colt Single Action Army, one of the most elegantly made revolvers Bruce had ever seen. The metal was a cobalt blue with intricate gold carvings and designs. It was beautiful, until he realized that he was the one staring down the barrel of it.

"So much has happened since you were gone. You talk about nerve! YOU TALK ABOUT NERVE!!! You were the one who upped and disappeared. Not me and Selina. I had to watch her cry night after night hoping you hadn't gone and killed yourself. I had to comfort her. And on top of that, I have to carry on the legacy of our family. Don't talk to me like you know what's going on!!! I'm under so much pressure right now from my father that if I don't do this for him . . . I don't know what he'll do to me."

Bruce was astonished. He had never seen Roman cry before, but he was witnessing it right now. All of the feelings that had been inside of Roman for the past seven years came flushing out. Bruce felt that he was on the wrong . . . but he wasn't sure.

"Roman . . . I'm sorry I didn't know. But I just cant do it."

The gun cocked, and Bruce was ready to take him out. But then, Roman's face so full of emotion and anger turned into shock and alarm.

"BRUCE GET DOWN!!!"

Bruce fell to the floor and heard the deafening BLAM of the revolver.

--

That no good bastard Roman.

When Zsasz raised his knife, the blade caught the moonlight's glare and Roman spotted him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Almost like a pro, the kid fired his fancy revolver and caught Zsasz square in the shoulder. The good thing about Zsasz though, is that the more you hurt him . . . the angrier he gets.

He fell to the floor, clutching his shoulder, but then his rage began to take over. He released his hand from his naked shoulder and licked his hand clean of blood. He could feel Roman's shutter all the way from here. He got back to his feet, blood dripping from his wound down his exposed chest. Some of it falling to the floor, some getting caught in many scars or "tallys" on his body.

"W-who are you?"

Roman was frightened, his gun was shaking all over the place. This was going to be all too easy, was all that Zsasz could think. But then he remembered Falcone's voice . . . about his son.

Zsasz shook himself out of his trance and focused only on Bruce's body. He was lying on his back, his eyes staring intently on Zsasz, and he looked for some kind of emotion to spring out of Zsasz's face. He only found one . . . blood hungry.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM!!!"

Roman fired another shot into Zsasz's side, this one tearing right through his body. The pain was almost soothing, it fed his rage. His eyes started to go into a hazy red. Blood red. He shook himself free and rose his knife to end Wayne's life. But then Roman did the dumbest thing he could have . . . he ran right into Zsasz.

The two doubled over, Roman's voice screaming with fury and he mounted onto Zsasz. His flurry of fists found their marks with every blow. Roman's knuckles were covered with crimson just as Zsasz's face was. When Zsasz stopped moving, Roman let out a sigh of relief it was over.

Not.

With a sudden jolt Zsasz stabbed his knife right into Roman's hip. Roman let out a yelp of pain and fell off of Zsasz. Zsasz's breath became twisted and scraped along the back of his throat. His eyes were full of blood, whether from the massive beating or out of some transformation no one was sure. But he knew there was one thing to do and one thing only . . .

Kill.

He now mounted Roman out of instince and gave him an even more savage beating than the one he recently received. Roman coughed and gagged, tears formed from the pain. He was screaming in agony, and Bruce looked on. Then, he couldn't take it anymore.

Bruce charged at Zsasz with the speed of a linebacker ready to make the big hit of the game. He drilled him to the floor, and Zsasz was shocked. Bruce could feel one of Zsasz's ribs break upon impact. But much to his suprise, Zsasz recovered quickly, and both were on their feet.

Zsasz was panting like some kind of animal, ready to make the kill. Bruce straightened his back, and seemed to transform in front of Zsasz's own eyes. His posture was more menacing, but it was his eyes that really changed. Zsasz, for the first time since he could remember, was terrified.

Bruce Wayne was no more, he was now staring at Batman.

He cocked his head to look at Roman's broken and battered body, then resumed his awful gaze upon Zsasz. "No more."

Zsasz's hand was trembling.

"No one else dies today."

Zsasz raced out of fear, and crashed into Bruce's fist. Zsasz recovered and went for another stab, but Bruce parried with the palm of his hand and with the same hand quickly brought it backwards, smashing into Zsasz's cheekbone. Zsasz went to strike Bruce with his elbow, but Bruce was too fast. He ducked brought his own elbow into Zsasz's abdomen. He staggered back towards the entrance and Bruce returned to his stature of dominance.

"W-what the hell are you?"

Bruce opened his mouth, but was unaware of how intelligent Zsasz really was. He had asked not to hear a response, but to catch him off guard. Bruce wasn't fast enough, and Zsasz threw his knife across the room into Bruce's shoulder. Bruce was knocked from sheer momentum, off of his feet to the floor.

"Didn't think a crazy man could be smart . . . did ya Wayne?"

Bruce grunted, trying to pull the knife free from his shoulder.

"Need some help? Here, allow me."

Bruce screamed as Zsasz ripped it from his shoulder, and blood came flowing forth.

"Now then, shall we finish this?"

Zsasz raised the knife and Bruce's mind began to race. It couldn't be over . . . could it? All of his hard work, only to be bested by a deranged knife-throwing lunatic?

_Father . . . I failed you._

BLAM!

Zsasz's face was full bewilderment and he stiffened up. He let out a breath of pain as he crashed to the floor in a heap. Bruce glanced up and saw a silhouette of a young man holding a flashlight and .9mm.

"Jim! You guys need to get in here now . . . these guys need some serious medical attention!"

--

The lights were out again . . .

Sal tossed and turned in his bed, goddamn Dent. It sickened him that that asshole could just come in here and spit in his face like that. The nerve . . . the goddamn nerve.

He was in the slammer for no damn good reason and now Falcone was free to muscle him out. Oh, hell no. It wasn't gonna be like that. He'd get out of here . . . he had to get out of here.

The laugh. It starts up again. That crazy laugh . . . but this time, it's closer. Sal glanced over his shoulder and could swear he saw something right in front of his cell. Some tall, lanky bastard, but he couldn't get a good look since the lights were out. The laughing stopped, and now there was a dark, cynical chuckle.

"Oh Saaaaaaaaaaaally! Sally boy . . . is that you?"

This crazy bastard's voice crescendoed and decrescendoed like some stupid opera piece.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Ooooooh, so you don't remember hmm?"

Sal started to get a little worried.

"Oh, don't look so disappointed in yourself Sally. After all, I hardly expect an important business man like yourself to remember anyone's name at all. Why, you have so much on your plate."

"What the hell do you want clown?"

"Hehehe, clown. If you only knew the half of it Sally."

"Your crazy, you know that?"

"It takes one to know one."

"Get the hell out of here."

"But wait Sally, I'm not finished. Oh no, not yet. I can help you."

Sal was intrigued, "How?"

"It is Falcone you want . . . isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's his fault I'm in here."

"And I can get you out."

". . . What's the catch"

"Excuuuuuuuse me?"

"There's gotta be a catch."

"Oh no Sal, you'll come to find that I'm alot like Sandy Claws. I give things for free and don't expect anything in return."

"So . . . how do I get . . ."

Before Sal could finish, the wall behind him exploded in a burst of fire and ash. The smoke was overwhelming and the moon was shining through. He started to make his way, but turned. The light revealed only a pale jaw and red lips pressed against the bars of his cell. The lips opened to reveal his nasty teeth, and the widest smile he'd ever seen. But also, the most evil and malevolent one.

"You won't regret this."

Sal ran out of the hole, and the sound of sirens and dogs followed his passing.

"Oh, I know Sally . . . I know. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

The laugh started again, and filled Gotham's heart with fear.

THE END


End file.
